The Colour of Outer Space
by Shirvona
Summary: Strangeness from the outer reaches of my brain. May possibly make sense. A confused muddle of characters from other books or stories by me dragged into a room for no apparent reason. Much randomness may ensue.
1. Of Strage Fuzz and Much Confusion

Please note:

Belgarion, Zakath, Cyradis, Ce'nedra, Geran, Beldaran and the wolf © David Eddings

Aragorn, Arwen, Legolas and Gimli © J.R.R Tolkien

Ridcully, Ponder Stibbons and the Bursar © Terry Pratchett

Jack, Hannah, Jem and Kat © me and my friend

Mariel, Yamore and Comerl © me.

Thank you. Enjoy. Try not to lose your brains over the sheer weirdness.

- Shirvona

Chapter I: Of Strange Fuzz and Much Confusion

The king of Gondor's chambers…

Aragorn son of Arathorn relaxes happily on the sofa in the chamber he shared with his wife. Contented by the comfort of his seat, the warmth of the chamber, the good food and wine he had just consumed in the company of good friends, and the familiar sight of his wife Arwen brushing her long hair, he is on the verge of drifting off to sleep when a fuzzy sound, just on the cusp of hearing, caught his attention. As he jerks upright and Arwen spins around, the buzzing grows louder, the room wobbles, white and black movement appears before his eyes…

…a voice speaks, boomingly loud in his ear. "Give me the remote! Muuuuuum!"

Elsewhere in the same castle…

Legolas Greenleaf and his companion Gimli son of Gloin are just completing a ferociously competitive chess match as Legolas's keen elven ears catch an unusual sound. As the sound becomes loud enough for Gimli to hear it, analyse it, become confused, the chessboard and players is shaken away and replaced by a growing patch of white and black blurred movement…

A remarkably similar situation, worlds and aeons away…

Zakath, Emperor of boundless Mallorea and his wife Cyradis, having just eaten dinner with their close friends King Belgarion and Queen Ce'nedra of Riva, are returning to their chamber. The corridor before them blurs, buzzes and dissolves into eye-aching black and white patterns…

Elsewhere in the same palace…

Queen Ce'nedra looks up from her daughter's sleeping form to catch the eye of her husband. The buzzing sound fills the room, obliterating the words she mouths at him as the room begins to peel away from them…

A rudimentary camp, in a field, on a hill…

Yamore of Tsynia watches the small cooking fire before his eyes disappear into a moving collection of black and white shapes…

A school dormitory…

"Can anyone else hear static?"

A university…

"_Bursaaar!"_

…A space so vast normal minds cannot comprehend it, an earth-shaking tussle between titans, the stuff of which legends are made…

"But I want to watch _Spongebob!"_


	2. Of Peculiar Meetings

Please note:

Belgarion, Zakath, Cyradis, Ce'nedra, Geran, Beldaran and the wolf © David Eddings

Aragorn, Arwen, Legolas and Gimli © J.R.R Tolkien

Ridcully, Ponder Stibbons and the Bursar © Terry Pratchett

Jack, Hannah, Jem and Kat © me and my friend

Mariel, Yamore and Comerl © me.

Thank you. Enjoy. Try not to lose your brains over the sheer weirdness.

- Shirvona

Chapter II: Of Peculiar Meetings

And finally…a small, non-descript room, minimal decoration, the occasional chair, a brown carpet…all hardly worth notice save for the lack of walls.

Or rather, lack of anything that would be conventionally called a wall. There is defiantly a barrier of some kind, although it resembles nothing so much as a moving mess of black and white. And people, giving the impression of approaching without getting any larger, but gaining _definition_ as they do so. People, about to break through the pseudo-walls, about to reach the currently empty room, about to begin what is possibly the most bizarre experience of any of their lives (which, in most of their cases, is saying something), about to…

…crash. The majority of them end up sprawled in a heap on the brown carpet. A select few remain standing, those with elven reflexes, and those accustomed to being whirled through the ether and unceremoniously spat out in unfamiliar places.

A worried few minutes, as friends, spouses and children are anxiously checked for injury, as friends are recognised and fussed over.

A split second of silence and stillness as the walls, room, _other people_ are noticed…

A blur of movement, instinct and honed reflex taking over. Weapons bristle in all directions. Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli form a protective ring around Arwen, who still clutches a hairbrush. Zakath and Belgarion do the same for Ce'nedra, Cyradis and the children. Yamore is back to back with his partner in crime, Mariel, with their adopted accomplice Comerl behind them. A group of four teenagers sprout a varied range of pointed objects from within their ranks (one of which is a nail file, but this is not realised until later). Three men in dresses brandish their hands in a way that would be fearsome if they were thinner or wearing better clothes or carrying weapons. A wolf snarls from between Belgarion and Zakath. The room is a tableau of frozen figures. Eventually, the silence is broken by an urgent hiss –

"_Hannah, the very short person with the axe is _looking _at me."_

The tension relaxes noticeably. No-one can be too much of a threat while clutching a nail file, attempting to hide behind a much-smaller girl and looking terrified of someone three feet high in a room of seasoned warriors. Of course, he should be just as afraid of the dwarf as of the rest of the warriors, but those who do not habitually see dwarves where they come from cannot be expected to be aware of this.

The weapons drop, people straighten from a variety of fighting stances. The boy with the nail file finally realises what he's been brandishing and hands it back to his friend with a blush. The toddler in Ce'nedra's arms begins to whimper. As if on cue, all the females in the room turn towards the sound. A shared glance that means _'women, I don't know…" _flickers between Legolas, Gimli, Yamore and the three men in dresses.

"So, um…" Mariel begins. "I want everyone to think very hard about this question, please. _What the hell just happened?_"

This question is the catalyst for a babble of discussion, amongst which the recurring questions can be discerned – "who are these people?", "where are we?", "why do the walls make my eyes ache?" and "why is that man holding a frying pan?". Hearing this last one, Yamore glances at his left hand. He is indeed holding a frying pan. The wolf is just licking the last drips of bacon fat from the edge.

Jack (the boy who until recently had the nail file) is able at least to answer one question. "The walls look like what you get when the TV's on a channel you don't have."

His friends agree with him. The others stare.

"What," Comerl ventures, "is a teevee?"

Hope this makes some sense. Please review I need constructive criticism – S.


	3. Of Introductions and Bad Jokes

Please note:

Belgarion, Zakath, Cyradis, Ce'nedra, Geran, Beldaran and the wolf © David Eddings

Aragorn, Arwen, Legolas and Gimli © J.R.R Tolkien

Ridcully, Ponder Stibbons and the Bursar © Terry Pratchett

Jack, Hannah, Jem and Kat © me and my friend

Mariel, Yamore and Comerl © me.

Thank you. Enjoy. Try not to lose your brains over the sheer weirdness.

- Shirvona

Chapter III: Of Introductions and Bad Jokes

Many failed explanations of televisions, broadcasting and channels later…

The answer of magic, sorcery and demons is finally settled on, by all except Ponder Stibbons, who is delighted to meet people whose views on waves and particles agree with his own. Jem is still patiently attempting to explain electricity to Ridcully (the fattest man in the most elaborate dress) but is finding logic and scientific fact make very little headway against sheer misunderstanding. Comerl and Yamore are trying to puzzle out how to create moving pictures in boxes where they live, without the aid of cameras, televisions or electricity. Ponder Stibbons is telling them about film where he comes from, which is made by imps that paint _really_ fast. On appeal to Mariel, they discover to their disappointment that no such thing appears to exist in their country. The heady ideas of film and television have distracted everyone for a while, but the more serious minded of them are finding it difficult to ignore their current situation.

"Excuse me," Ce'nedra clears her throat loudly. "This teevee is interesting, but it still fails to explain anything."

"She has a point," Legolas remarks.

Geran was tugging on his mother's skirts. Ce'nedra turns to him. "Yes, dear?"

"Who are these people?" the boy asks seriously, his eyes round as saucers.

"Introductions _would_ seem to be in order, wouldn't they?" Mariel muses. "Who's first?"

"I am Ce'nedra, queen of Riva, Princess of the Imperial House of Tolnedra. Who are _you?_" Ce'nedra replied imperiously with a toss of her copper curls.

"Well, since you ask…" Mariel sounds amused. "My name is Mariel of Ithilia. I am the child of Casildra, the mother goddess, and Karion, first of kings. I bear the Elhamer, that which is called Soroth. I am the queen among queens. I stand with one foot among mortals and the other among the gods. The spirits of the world are mine to command. How may I serve you, your majesty?"

Ce'nedra seems momentarily taken aback. Belgarion, who knows his wife, places a hand on her arm to ward off the approaching explosion.

"My name is Belgarion," he continues hastily.

"Zakath."

"Cyradis.

"Geran. And that's my sister Beldaran. And this is my wolf."

"Are you all kings and queens?" Comerl asks.

"No, child," Zakath answers, "I am an Emperor. My wife is an Empress. Young Geran and Beldaran are a prince and princess."

"And the wolf?" asks Ridcully. When no-one laughs, he harrumphs loudly and settles his pointy hat more firmly on his head. "m'name's Ridcully. Ridcully the brown. Archchancellor of Unseen University. These fellows are on the staff, y'know. This one's Ponder Stibbons" – Ponder Stibbons smiles bashfully – "and that chap over there is the Bursar. SAY HELLO TO THESE PEOPLE, BURSAAR!"

"Why thank you, your pruneship," the Bursar remarks brightly.

There is a collective raising of eyebrows among those who are not acquainted with him. Ponder Stibbons shuffles nervously across the room, digs a wooden box out of the Bursar's pocket and offers him some of the contents.

"Dried frog pills," Ridcully explains loudly to the room at large. "He takes these funny turns sometimes. Just don't give him anything more stimulating than porridge, and make sure the cutlery's wooden."

"I'll try to keep that in mind," mutters Yamore, moving the frying pan out of harm's way.

"Who's next?" Ce'nedra demands, apparently having got over being out-majestied by Mariel.

"I'm Comerl. I'm not a child," Comerl announces sullenly, glaring at the Emperor of Mallorea.

"Yamore," Yamore says hurriedly, before any fights start.

"Jack." The boy who had been holding the nail file.

"Hannah." The girl he had attempted to hide behind.

"Jem." The girl who had been attempting to make Ridcully understand electricity.

"Kat." The last member of the group of four teenagers.

"Anyone else?"

"I am Aragorn son of Arathorn, this is my wife Arwen Undomiel and these are my friends Legolas Greenleaf and Gimli son of Gloin." Aragorn completes the introductions.

"So…that makes twenty people," Mariel has been keeping count. A cry of protest from Geran interrupts her. "-sorry, twenty people and a wolf- and we're stuck in a small room with no food, no water and no way out. And with walls which make our brains ache."

"You just had to go and say it, didn't you?" Kat mutters, as Ce'nedra, Cyradis and Arwen utter cries of horror. "Just when that kid had gone to sleep."

Beldaran begins to cry again.

-just don't tell my mum – I didn't think it was funny enough to make anyone's brain melt. But whatever amuses you, I guess.

Fear the awesomeness of the magisterial presence! I sense clash of egos here. -S


	4. Of Food and New Words

Please note:

Belgarion, Zakath, Cyradis, Ce'nedra, Geran, Beldaran and the wolf © David Eddings

Aragorn, Arwen, Legolas and Gimli © J.R.R Tolkien

Ridcully, Ponder Stibbons and the Bursar © Terry Pratchett

Jack, Hannah, Jem and Kat © me and my friend

Mariel, Yamore and Comerl © me.

Thank you. Enjoy. Try not to lose your brains over the sheer weirdness.

- Shirvona

As there was no way of telling the time in the room with the headache causing walls, there was no way of telling if it was morning. Most of the occupants began to wake up at around the same time, so by common consent it was morning. Most of the group were used to sleeping rough and having to get up in their clothes, but Beldaran and Arwen were most unimpressed. The wolf prowls around irritably, looking for something to eat. A consultation and general searching of pockets produces two apples, half a chocolate bar, half a packet of Polos, three biscuits, some lembas and a cold sausage. Comerl, who has offered this last item, shrugs and looks sheepish. "I don't know why I'm carrying a sausage either," he declares.

As Beldaran's whining and the wolf's restlessness seems to be getting on most peoples' nerves, it is decided to share the food between the children and the wolf. Some time is spent exclaiming over the wonders of the plastic wrappers on the chocolate and the Polos, and Ponder is disappointed when Jack, Hannah, Jem and Kat between them fail to know anything about how plastics are made. More exclaiming happens over the chocolate and Polos themselves, along with the lembas. Sausages seem to be universal food and the sausage is accepted as normal by all, especially the wolf, to whom it is allotted. The children (Beldaran, Geran and Comerl, who is opting to be a child only because there is an advantage in doing so) are each given a share of the chocolate, Polos, apples and biscuit, along with a small bite of lembas. Everyone else receives a bite of lembas. The remains of the elven bread are carefully stored by Legolas for future mealtimes, and to keep Beldaran and Geran quiet. The dispensation of breakfast seems like a council between people who are temporary allies but by no means friends. Afterwards, everyone splits back into their separate groups. Geran is freed to wander around the room and listen in on the other's conversations.

"I don't trust those kids or the fat blokes in robes," Comerl is muttering. "The king bloke, the one with the giant sword, he's as noble and trustworthy as the day is long. You can see it in his eyes."

"I foresee arguments with his wife, though…"

The men in robes appear to be having an argument. At least, Ponder Stibbons is talking quietly to Ridcully and Ridcully is harrumphing loudly. The bursar is staring at the wall. Geran stands in front of him for a while, wanting the man to say something funny. The bursar's smiling gaze is fixed on the moving black and white a few feet above Geran's head, and he fails to notice the boy.

Another argument is taking place between the four teenagers in the funny clothes.

"Well, how do you propose we mention this?" Jem hisses.

"Yeah, do we just go up to them and be all 'oh by the way, where we come from, you're fictional?" Jack backs her up.

"Yeah why not?" Kat argues, "We might as well…"

They notice Geran staring at them.

"Hello," Hannah says cheerfully.

"What's fictional?" he asks, puzzled.

"Um…it means made up. Like in a book or a story."

Geran continues his circuit of the room, turning this new word over in his mind.


	5. Of Arguments and Further Confusion

Woah, I haven't updated this in a while, have I? Disclaimer: I own a laptop and some books. I also own a glass head of the Buddha. I own very little else. And if I don't own it, it manifestly isn't mine. That goes for most of these characters, the internet and Brazil. Have fun.

Of Arguments and Further Confusion

An impromptu council of war is held in the middle of the room, to see if anyone has had any further ideas on removing themselves from this predicament.

"I still think Flitworthy's Temporal Translocator…" Ridcully grumbles.

"As I explained, sir," Ponder replies tiredly, "that's not possible here."

"And I can't move anyone, because I don't know where we are," Belgarion adds gloomily.

"And we don't have our radio," Kat contributes. The rest stare at her.

"We didn't explain about the radio, did we?" Hannah remembers. Everyone shakes their head mutely.

"Well…" she begins. "To cut a short story shorter, we have a radio – which is a machine – that enables us to travel across time and worlds through the power of language. We can act as a conduit for language, in a way, and the radio can do the same. If you think of language as being like a river, we can use the radio to follow a particular language back to its source. That's how we normally find ourselves getting dragged into temporal anomalies; this time appears to be different. I don't know why. So we don't have the radio and can't use it to get back."

"So what we've discovered is, we're stuck," Zakath states the obvious.

There is a moment's reflective pause.

"Perhaps if we all explain how we got here, that might give us some clues," Comerl suggests.

"Well done, that boy!" Ridcully cheers up at the possibility of ordering people around. "You go first, whatever you call yourself, the blond one."

"Me?" ask Yamore, Legolas and Belgarion in unison.

"Yes, you," Ridcully agrees placidly, leaving more confusion in his wake.

"Well, we were eating and then everything went fuzzy and there was this irritating noise and everything started dissolving into patterns like that" – Yamore gestures at the walls – "and then we fell through into this room. And I still had the frying pan."

"Same for us, except we weren't eating," Kat agrees.

"And myself and Gimli here. We had been playing chess," Legolas contributes unnecessarily.

Ridcully surveys the remainder of the room's occupants. They all confirm similar situations.

"Did anyone else hear a voice?" Aragorn asks. There is a general denial.

"I heard someone – a child, I think – speak in my ear as the moving black and white took over the room."

"And what did they say?" Comerl asks impatiently.

"This person requested…a remote? And then called for someone named muuuuuum."

"A remote? I said this had something to do with TV," Jack exclaims triumphantly.

"What is-"

"A remote is a way of changing channels," he explains hurriedly before Ponder Stibbons gets over-enthusiastic on the subject of TV again.

"So you think a teevee has snatched us and imprisoned us in this room, is that what you're saying?" Mariel asks.

"I don't know, do I? It's just an idea."

Hannah prods him in the ribs. He elbows her in return. She yanks a handful of his hair.

"Um…did we miss something?" Yamore inquires quizzically.

"Jack has something to tell you," Hannah tells him calmly, ducking a sideways swipe from his fist.

"Okay, okay, _fine_, whatever, I'll tell them!" he yells, gripping his foot (which has just been the recipient of a well-placed stamp).

The rest stare at him.

"Yeah…there really isn't a tactful way of putting this…" he scratches his head, then gives up. "Where we come from, you're made up. Well, we know most of you are. You're in books. Not sure about you three" - indicating Mariel, Yamore and Comerl – "but that could just be coz none of us have read your book."

"We are in your histories?" Arwen inquires – the first time she has spoken yet.

"Um, no. you're in a novel."

"What is a novel?"

"It's a story – a made up story, not history. We have lots of books where we come from, and people write stories to be made into books."

"Indeed? There must be many scribes in your land."

"Nonono we have printers so they can make a lot of books quickly."

"Printing, humph?" Ridcully snorts. "Nothing but trouble."

"What is-"

"Oh, for gods sake. Ask someone else." Jem exclaims distractedly.

"Printing is a magic used to make lots of books very quickly," Kat informs them wearily.

"It's not-" Ponder Stibbons attempts to contradict her. Kat swings round to face him.

"I have a suggestion," she growls. "Shut up."

"Right, right away ma'am, shutting up sir."

Zakath and Belgarion are conferring with Aragorn. As they seem to have reached a decision, Zakath steps forward and clears his throat.

"We have been thinking…" he begins.

"Is that the royal we?" Comerl asks snidely. He receives a glare from the Emperor.

"We have, as I said, been thinking. We feel that this attempt to find a way to escape this prison will perhaps not be successful if it is being led by a group of inexperienced children."

The four teenagers and Comerl bristle at this insult, but Hannah gets in first.

"Well, we would be only too happy to yield the floor to you and your fellow kings," she steps aside to demonstrate her point, "if we thought you had a snowball's chance in hell of doing anything. Or if you knew anything about what you were talking about. Or even if you demonstrated some rudimentary intelligence. Or if you at least managed to shut that bloody child up."

Zakath and Ce'nedra draw themselves up haughtily, in preparation for launching into tirades about the impertinence of this comment. Without anyone appearing to move, battle lines begin to form. Comerl, Mariel, Yamore, Legolas and Gimli congregate behind Hannah, who seems to have been appointed accidental spokeswoman, and the other three. A phalanx of kings and associated relations opposes them. Ridcully and Ponder Stibbons look uncomfortable. The bursar is attempting to introduce himself to a chair; the walls appear to be affecting him.

"Legolas Greenleaf," Aragorn says disbelievingly, "surely you do not think that the child is right?"

"She and her companions understand this thing they call teevee, mellon nin. You cannot deny that. I see no other way of understanding our predicament."

There is a moment of silence as each group weighs up the other. The tension in the air could be cut with a blunt knife. The bursar's murmuring to the chair in the background is largely ignored. Eventually a collective decision appears to be reached and Zakath relaxes somewhat, leaving the floor open for Hannah once more.

"Let us hear your plans, then," he instructs.

Hannah of course has no plans, but not for nothing has she taken drama for six years. She steps forwards confidently.


End file.
